


Three Firsts

by Pastel_Teacups



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Pre-show, The underage is Minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastel_Teacups/pseuds/Pastel_Teacups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two firsts of Kieren's, one first of Gary's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, the underage part in this fic isn't even dawned on, but Kieren was 17-18 when this fic happens, so I thought I'd warn it. 
> 
> This also complies with one of my headcanons, which is that Gary's parents died when he was very young and he was raised by an abusive uncle, but the abuse isn't even mentioned so it shouldn't be a trigger. Enjoy!

**1\. First Kiss**

It just happens, and Gary isn’t sure he wants to think about it too much for fear of ruining the moment. 

But one dark night behind some building it happens, one of their usual shouting matches ending in a not-so-usual way. 

Their lips crash together in a tangle of anger and hatred and something else, and Gary pushes Kieren until his back hits the wall and he has nowhere to go but closer. 

He doesn’t seem to be complaining, though, and by the way he arches against Gary’s touch he would guess Kieren quite enjoyed it. 

When he pulls away for air they almost smile at each other, but neither can quite manage. 

**2\. First Drink**

Kieren asks and, as always, Gary has no choice but to deliver. 

They’re sitting in bed, still tangled up in sheets and clothes and each other, when Kieren speaks. 

“Can I have a beer?” 

It’s a timid voice, the voice of a teenager asking for something he’d always been denied, and Gary almost smiles. “Aren’t you a little young?” 

“Piss off,” Kieren murmurs accompanied by a hit to Gary’s chest, his voice muffled by a pillow. His light hair sticks up in the back, and the sight makes Gary’s insides twist. 

After a moment, he tugs himself to his feet and walks off with a long sigh. Kieren doesn’t follow, and when Gary returns with two glasses in hand he finds that the younger hasn’t even moved. 

When he finally does look up, his eyebrows knit together. “That’s not beer.” 

“It’s scotch.” Gary tells him, sitting down on the edge of the bed and offering Kieren the glass. “Out of beer. Take it or leave it.” 

The young boy sits up and takes the glass with long fingers, offering it up in a toast. 

Their glasses clink together in the quiet of Gary’s flat, and when Kieren takes a sip his face sours suddenly. 

Gary can’t help but laugh. “Should’ve warned you. It gets better the longer you drink, if that helps.” 

He recovers after a moment, and is even brave enough to take another cautious sip. “When was your first drink?” 

Gary has to think about it. “I was twelve, and it was a can of beer I stole from my uncle’s fridge.” 

The boy next to him raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Twelve?” 

“I know.” Gary murmurs, shrugging. 

“Didn’t you have parents, Gary?” 

It’s the first _real_ conversation they’ve had. Gary isn’t sure he likes it. “No. They died when I was six.” He says after a moment, and the remorse in Kieren’s face is evident. 

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t-” 

He shakes his head in dismissal before Kieren can get the words out. “It’s alright.” And then, to disperse the terrible tension: “Drink up, then.” 

When Kieren falls asleep his cheeks are pink from drink, his glass is empty, and Gary feels a particularly confusing wave of affection as he gazes down at the sleeping for beside him. 

**3\. First Funeral**

Gary’s seen plenty of death in his life, but never once has he been to a funeral. 

He hadn’t been allowed to his parent’s funeral, having been too young, and when his hateful uncle died he’d elected not to go. 

But here he is, and he suddenly wishes he hadn’t come. 

But it was only right. 

Kieren doesn’t look as peaceful as he should, resting in all that white linen, and it makes Gary’s heart ache. 

_He deserved better._

He can’t help but blame himself for it. For not seeing it before, for not noticing Kieren’s disappearance mere days before it happened. Perhaps Kieren wanted Gary to find him. Perhaps Kieren _needed_ Gary to find him.

But now it’s too late, and Kieren is gone.

He feels a dull ache just beneath his skin, something that set in the moment he found out about Kieren and what he’d done. 

It’s never ending and cold in his stomach, and Gary’s sure he’s spiraling into madness. 

Kieren’s casket lowers into the ground slowly, and as it does Gary stands there (not as close as he’d like because he has to protect his reputation) and watches it grimly descend. Everything hurts, and Gary can’t recall ever feeling as lost and empty as he is at this particular moment. 

Only when he closes the door to his flat behind him does he fall apart. 

He slumps against the wall, and as he sinks down onto the carpet the creeping realization that he’ll never see Kieren’s bright face again truly dawns on him. 

He puts his head in his hands. 

_I’m sorry._


End file.
